


When the Smoke Cleared

by ThatHCWriter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Battle of Hogwarts Aftermath, Canonical Character Death, Cruciatus Curse (Harry Potter), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Feels, Gen, Grandparents & Grandchildren, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Percy Weasley, Hurt/Comfort, Lucius Malfoy Being an Asshole, Lucius Malfoy's A+ Parenting, M/M, Memories, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poor Molly, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Recovery, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Self-Doubt, Self-Reflection, Supportive Narcissa Black Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:11:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26280172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatHCWriter/pseuds/ThatHCWriter
Summary: The smoke clears after the dark lord is defeated, and those involve begin to pick up the pieces.Or, a series of shots looking in at specific characters after the war is won.
Relationships: Alice Longbottom & Frank Longbottom & Neville Longbottom, Amos Diggory & Arthur Weasley, Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley, Draco Malfoy & Narcissa Black Malfoy, Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Fred Weasley & George Weasley, Luna Lovegood & Xenophilius Lovegood, Lyall Lupin & Remus Lupin, Molly Weasley & Percy Weasley, Molly Weasley & Weasley Family, Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas
Comments: 13
Kudos: 49





	1. Molly

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so this is going to be a series of looks into how each of the characters deal with the immediate aftermath of the battle of Hogwarts. Most of these will be a bit angsty because....well...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly begins to come to terms with the loss of her son.

Molly Weasley remembered the moment she stepped into the hall after the battle. She remembered the smoke, the smell of blood and pain and war that boiled around her. But she really never forgot the moment she saw the name Weasley on the directory of the dead.

Her mind was instantly sent racing, praying, wishing and thinking hard about who was on that slab. The walk felt like a million miles, especially when she saw the face on the stretcher. It was one of the twins, motionless and staring without seeing, with Percy sitting next to the body and gripping its hand while he stared ahead numbly. Molly's heart shattered. She moved closer to the scene, willing herself to wake up, to see that it wasn't real, that her son wasn't laying there dead. 

The closer she got, the clearer she could see the horror on Percy's face. The closer she got, the more she could see how deathly pale both of her sons' faces had become. The closer she got, the more the realization pressed down on her. 

One of her children was gone. 

Oh god, one of her children was gone. 

She knelt next to the body, brushing a hand through the matted red hair. She was close enough to notice the fine details now, and there was no mistaking that this was Fred. She was sure it was. She knew deep in her soul that, no matter how many times she mixed the two up, this time it was Fred. She tried to shake the image of George finding out from her mind as tears leaked out of her eyes uncontrollably. She almost forgot about Percy, who hadn't moved even when she knelt next to him, until he heard his voice. 

"He just... and I.. I can't.." Percy rambled darkly, voice never making it above a haunted whisper. Molly turned for a moment to her living son, overwhelmed with emotions. Just weeks ago, he was turning his back on the family, refusing to even associate with the people that raised him. She was furious, but he never even apologized. And yet, here he was. In shock and trembling, clutching the hand of his dead brother, unable to even stand. Molly softened for a moment, moving her hand from Fred and resting it on Percy's shoulder. 

He almost flinched away, eyes still vacant. 

"I don't know what happened, Perce, but it's not your fault," Percy turned to her, eyes tearful and glazed, and leaned in reluctantly. Molly embraced him, trying hard not to think about how long it had been since this had happened. The moment, though peaceful, was short lived. 

The pair froze in their tracks when they heard the labored breaths of two people heading toward them. Those two stood out from the crowd, eerily familiar in the crowd full of strange newness. As if the sea parted, the two were revealed to the new people for a moment, drawing an awful, animalistic cry from one of them. Molly remembers hearing the awful noise, George, she gathered, and then the world blurred for a minute. 

She remembered feeling a strong, warm hand on her back, Arthur's, she thought, and a voice shushing someone close. It might have been her own, for all she knew. She remembers a new shriek, cry or pained gasp when each new family member saw what had happened, and the constant, bitter cries of the still living twin punctuating the moments in between. She remembered someone mentioning Tonks and Lupin, but she didn't recall why. 

She didn't remember much of anything concrete until later that night, when the Weasleys sat together in the ruins of the castle that built them, simply being together. She was slumped next to Arthur, who was sitting next to and keeping watch over a very distant George. Ron was curled into Hermione, and Bill into Fleur, with each of the other siblings in a mass all together across the circle. 

For the first time since that awful moment in the hall, Percy spoke. 

"He was laughing, you know," He said distantly, eyes fixed on something in the horizon. Molly sat up, not missing George stiffen next to them. "Fred. He.. was protecting me, and he was laughing." Molly noticed her husband crack a sad smile, which was echoed all across the group. 

"He was always laughing, wasn't he," Arthur mused, slowly beginning to rub both Molly and George's backs. 

"Never could stop. Always had us in stitches too," Ginny said reflectively, glancing around. Most everyone nodded in solemn agreeance. 

"Remember when he turned my teddy bear into a spider?" The circle laughed sadly, others quickly throwing out other anecdotes to reminisce and smile over. 

And so it went for a few hours, stories stretching late into the night, a few even getting Molly and George to smile. The family slowly began to surrender to sleep, Molly and Arthur fighting it off the longest. They held each other stoically, each of them unconsciously surveying each of their living children. Arthur slept first, something Molly only noticed when his hand stalled in her hair. 

It took her a few more hours, contemplating it all, the memories and the pain. She loved thinking about all the laughs, the smiles, and the joy that her son brought the world. 

But no matter how much she remembered the good times;

She still had to wake up the next morning and think about how to bury her child. 

And that was something she'd never stop thinking about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to request the next character I should do in the comments! Hope you enjoyed.


	2. Percy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It should've been Percy. That's a fact he can't ignore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As requested, Percy is up next! This one's pretty heavy, but then again, you knew that when you clicked on this. Regardless, stay safe and I hope you enjoy!

"You actually are joking, Perce... I don't think I've heard you joke since you were—"

Percy didn't fully hear what his brother was saying, the cacophony of the battle drowning out the familiar voice. With spells and jinxes flying around at breakneck pace, he didn't see a need to expend energy trying to listen to what he saw as another one of Fred's frivolous remarks. No harm done, he wagered. 

But how could he have known then? 

How could he have predicted that this would become the worst in a long line of mistakes he'd made?

How could he begin to realize that that moment would play on repeat in his head for the rest of his days? 

In a moment, the spells stopped and gave way to a blast of light and an ear splitting sound. Percy was knocked back, his ears harshly ringing and his vision swimming. He shakily got to his feet, leaning on a piece of rubble for support. 

That's when he noticed. He was the only one standing up. And he certainly wasn't alone in the minutes before. 

He gave it a moment, hoping that it was just taking the others a minute, that they were just a bit disoriented. With every passing second, though, it started to dawn on him that no one else would be getting up. He'd missed a collapsed pillar by a few feet on one side, and a downpour of debris bits on the other. For a moment, he felt relief, a sick sense of calm. 

That is, until he looked to his right; and a wave of nausea barreled into him. 

Propped up against the remnants of a pillar with his eyes staring ahead at nothing, was Fred. Aside from the rubble on his chest, he almost looked artificial, like a well-posed mannequin with artificial features. The only way he could truly tell that the person on the pillar was his brother were his eyes. Those eyes bore a hole in Percy's heart, the complete absence of wit, of life within them suddenly making the image much too real. 

"Freddy?" Percy asked sheepishly. The nickname sounded strange coming from him, he honestly thought this was the first time he'd ever used it. A part of him thought that maybe the strange phrase would cause his brother to stir, make him start giving Percy grief for using the name. Any other moment, Percy would've found such a remark annoying, but he was desperate. 

An annoying Fred is infinitely better than a silent one. 

"Freddy, hey, can you hear me?" Percy drew closer to his brother, kneeling hesitantly. He reached out to touch Fred's shoulder, praying to feel him flinch, stir, anything but stillness. "Fred? Please, Fred," Percy whispered, composure slowly starting to fracture. He kept talking to his brother, the hope of a response quickly dwindling. 

"Sir," a soft, but demanding female voice spoke up from behind him, "We need to move him." Percy turned to see a girl around Ginny's age in tattered Slytherin robes and donning an arm band marked 'medic.' Numbly, he slid backward, letting the others take his brother away, hopefully to help. The thought crossed his mind that he should stay, that he shouldn't let Fred be alone, but it was silenced almost as quickly as it surfaced. 

Did he even have the right to be there for Fred? He was never there for his family after he started working at the ministry. He was never there when his father was in the hospital. He was never there when the Burrow burned down. He was never there for George after he lost his ear. So what made him think it was okay to re-insert himself into his family's life after being so... distant for so long? 

Percy didn't even realize that he had moved to the great hall. He was faintly aware of the increase of commotion around him, but he was too deep in his own head to register it in the moment. He remembered thinking how strange it was to see his brother laying so stiffly on a stretcher, one of the far too many lifeless faces lining the hall. More than that, he remembered how out of place he felt, as someone who had contributed to this, even in some small way. 

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake that thought. He was sitting among the victims when he was, in some small way, a perpetrator. He should be laying on that cot, with the other people who played the game. He should be paying for what he'd done, for what he'd excused. 

It should've been him. He should've been crushed, been sitting there lifeless. At least then it would've been a fitting end; a bitter-sweet redemption for a fallen hero, or a punishment that fit his many crimes. At least then it would've felt fitting. Not so unnerving, not so strange, not so scary as a suddenly silenced Fred. He could've warned him, told him to move, done something. 

Hell, he didn't even try hard enough to listen to the last thing his brother ever said. 

He suddenly felt the sensation of a presence nearby him, a warm, familiar aura that had been so absent from his life recently. Mom. It felt like the dagger was driven deeper into his heart, like he was starting to bleed. It hurt, it hurt so badly. 

But she deserved an explanation, so Percy tried to give her something. "He just.." Percy tried, voice strained, "And I.. I can't.." He trailed off, tears finally escaping him. His mother's eyes glistened with sympathy he didn't deserve. She rested a hand on his shoulder, causing him to flinch involuntarily. 

"I don't know what happened, Perce, but it's not your fault." Percy was almost in shock. Not only was his mother here, but she was reaching out to him, willing to comfort the son he was sure she wished was on the ground. He couldn't hold back any longer, involuntarily reaching for his mother and falling into her arms. She shushed him, comforting him quietly like he was a child, like he hadn't done anything wrong. 

Percy could hear the rest of his family arriving, seeing and reacting to the news, but he didn't pay any attention to it. All he had the strength to do was think about his mother. If she think he wasn't to blame, maybe that wasn't so absurd. 

Maybe if she could forgive him, he could forgive himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? I love hearing your thoughts and getting request, so who do you want me to focus on next! It doesn't have to be a Weasley!


	3. Arthur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Fred's funeral, Arthur Weasley gets a visit from an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea has been bouncing around in my head for a while, and I'm stunned this hasn't been done before to my knowledge. 
> 
> Angst obviously ahead. Hope you enjoy.

Arthur sat for a while after the guests cleared out from the cottage. Molly was near the casket, hand resting on George's back as he cried. Distantly, Arthur thought he should be up there, comforting his wife and son, but something stuck him to his seat, unable to move. The world itself felt as if it was pressing down on him, suffocating him where he sat. Molly and George felt much further away than a few yards, somehow deepening the feeling of crushing isolation.

In his haze, he barely detected a presence approaching him from behind. He vaguely thought that someone was speaking to him, sitting down next to him, but he wasn't sure of exactly what the person was saying. A sudden hand on his shoulder stirred him a bit. 

"Arthur, can you hear me?" He turned to face the man, recognition finally sinking in. 

Amos. 

Arthur nodded, trying a half-hearted smile. Sympathy laced Amos' face. "Can we talk? Just for a moment?" Amos stood slowly, helping Arthur to stand next to him. He noticed that Molly and George were still standing next to the coffin, still frozen in the same positions. Sighing, he went with Amos, eventually making their way to a portkey. In a moment, they were at the Diggory house, in a secluded part of the home. 

"Where are we," Arthur asked, still a bit lethargic. Amos smiled reflectively. 

"Cedric's old room," Amos casually sat down on the bed, picking at the sheet, "Wanted to take you here. It's where I go when I need to do some thinking." Arthur sat on the bed reluctantly, a strange feeling taking over him. Amos settled down a bit, taking a deep, unsure breath before continuing, "Arthur, what can I do?" The question completely blindsided him. 

"What are you.." 

"I'm serious. Do you need anything? Anything at all?" Arthur still had no idea how to respond. 

"Amos you don't have to, I'll be fine," Arthur said dismissively, turning away from his friend. Amos sighed. 

"Let me tell you something, Arthur. When Cedric passed, no one knew how to talk to me. They all walked away from me, just left me out to dry because they didn't know what to say. Most alone I've ever felt in my life," Amos trailed off, swallowing hard, "I don't want that for you, Arthur." Arthur bit back tears. 

"How did you do it Amos?" Arthur's voice was cracking, weaker than Amos had ever heard it. 

"I wish I could explain it Arthur. I really wish I could," Amos said darkly, memories swimming through his mind, "The only thing that helped me was time, if I'm honest. It still hurts, but time can work wonders." Arthur hung his head, nodding in dark understanding. After a moment, Arthur's head tilted up. 

"You know what, can I ask something of you?" 

"Of course." Arthur nodded, beginning to speak hesitantly. 

"Could we do something, anything together next week? I just.. I can't be in that house all the time. Don't get me wrong, I love them, so much, but sometimes it.." 

"Arthur. I understand. Better than most I'd wager." Arthur started to laugh, before quickly stopping. Amos smirked, "Hey no shame in laughing, we all need to do that once in a while." Arthur smiled, trying to ignore the pain in his chest. A moment passed, the air lightening around the two men ever so slightly. 

"Thank you for this. Seriously," Arthur murmured. Amos stood, smiling gratefully. 

"Any time, Arthur. Remember I'm here for you, all of you." He stood, handing Arthur the portkey. He took it, beaming the pair back to the cottage. It was darker now, Molly and George were no longer by the casket and the lights were on inside. Arthur looked inside wistfully, before steeling himself. 

"How about the Leaky Cauldron on Monday?" Arthur asked without looking back at Amos. The other man laughed.

"Sounds lovely. Best of luck, Arthur." Amos quickly portkeyed away, leaving the other man alone to face his family. 

Arthur took a deep breath, attempted a smile, and with a heavy heart, returned to his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I SWEAR THEY DONT HAVE TO BE WEASLEY RELATED. You can request any character you want! Feedback is appriciated!


	4. Draco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and his family are put on trial for their actions during the war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a different one. A little more nuanced than just a straight up grief one. Hope you enjoy!

The courtroom was packed to capacity; lawyers, press and public all jammed in to the room to see the day's proceedings. Settled in the middle on a too small bench was the Malfoy family, staring ahead like statues at the courtroom before them. The only movement from the group was Draco, whose leg bounced nervously. Lucius eyed it occasionally, but he didn't have the energy to reprimand the boy. Narcissa gently set her hand on her son's. 

"Breathe, Draco," she said softly, her gaze kind and encouraging. Draco nodded forcefully, eyes still locked don his mother as the trial began. Kinglsey stood before the group, banging a gavel on the wooden bench. 

"Order! I call order. Today we will decide on the course of reprimand for Lucius, Narcissa and Draco Malfoy as to their roles in the Second Wizarding War. Let us begin." Draco tried to control his breathing, focusing on his mother rather than the prying eyes and judgmental ministry members. "Missus Malfoy, you have the floor. State your defense." 

Narcissa stood elegantly and bravely, raising her wand to her mouth to amplify her speech. "During the battle, I made a contribution that cannot be understated, minister..." She took a pause, glancing back at Draco, "After... _he_ killed Potter in the forest, he asked me to check, to make sure the boy was dead. I lied minister. I looked him in the eyes and I told him Potter was dead." Some of the wizards on the panel looked impressed. 

"Admirable of you, Missus Malfoy, care to elaborate?" Narcissa swallowed, smiling politely. 

"I didn't want to fight for him in the first place. Turning my back was something that took bravery, but it felt... it felt liberating," she glared harshly at Lucius, before continuing calmly, "It was an act of good, minister, one that spared the lives of many. I for one don't think that should be forgotten." Kinglsey nodded, writing something down. 

"Alright Narcissa, you may return." She nodded curtly, taking a seat and resting her hand on Draco's back. He leaned in ever so slightly, still trying to catch his breath. The ministry members deliberated quietly, sometimes turning to the family. Draco was fixated on them, leg bouncing once again, but his mother took notice. 

"I'll be fine, dear, and so will you," she stated in a tone that left no room for Draco to argue. He simply, hesitantly, moved closer to her, accepting the attempt at comfort. Narcissa smiled, hooking an arm around his shoulders and continuing to reassure him. Lucius didn't seem bothered, simply staring ahead all the while. 

"Missus Malfoy, will you please rise." Narcissa obeyed, rising with dignity and keeping a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Narcissa Malfoy, you have been found not guilty by reason of forced indoctrination. You are free to go if you please." Narcissa nodded politely, before taking her seat. The minister and his colleagues looked confused. "You may leave, Narcissa, if you please." 

"I'm not going anywhere without my son," she said venomously, staring between the minister and her husband. Lucius almost laughed, drawing offense from Narcissa. Draco nodded gratefully, fear growing behind his eyes. 

"Draco Malfoy, do you wish to present your defense?" Kinglsey cut the moment short with his declaration. Still shaking, Draco nodded and stood, drawing a deep breath. 

"I did not perform any of the actions I am accused of willingly. I was forced to do so. Minister I had no choice," Draco's voice broke slightly at the last phrase, his eyes avoiding the jury. 

"Who forced you to participate in those actions, Draco," Kingsley asked, attempting to be sensitive. The blonde tried to contain his breath, steeling himself and staring at the floor. 

"My father did, minister," Draco whispered under his breath. 

"I'm sorry Draco, I can't hear you," one of the jurors asked. Draco threw his head up to look the minister in the eye. 

"My father did, minister." He could hear Lucius scoff from behind him. The minister hummed, taking careful notes. 

"Well I for one don't need to hear any more," The other jurors nodded, folding back toward Draco, "Draco Malfoy, you have been found not guilty of all charges on the grounds of forced indoctrination. You are free to go whenever you please." Draco looked back at his mother and father, tears in his eyes. Narcissa was beaming, arms open, but Lucius was still frozen, painfully aware of the hole he'd just been put in by his own son. 

"Good work dear, it's okay." Narcissa embraced her son, leading them out of the courtroom. 

"Cissa, are you honestly going to leave?" Lucius said in a tone that Draco didn't recognize. His mother stepped in front of him, smirking mischievously. 

"Dear, we'll see you soon," Narcissa deadpanned, taking Draco away with her. 

When they finally returned home, Draco immediately fell to the floor, weak and exhausted. Narcissa caught him, pulling him into her arms. "You're okay, Draco. We did it. You're okay." He smiled into her neck, allowing himself to rest, relax, be human for the first time since the triwizard tournament. 

"Thank you mum." 

"Of course dear. Of course."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Have any requests for the next character I should look at? Let me know in the comments!


	5. Neville

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville visits his parents, and informs them of what happened in the war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This should be a fun one. This one's got a much happier ending too. Hope you enjoy!

"How have they been doing, doc?" Neville asked as he limped down the bustling halls of Saint Mungos toward his parent's ward. The doctor barely seemed to notice, busily filing paperwork for the new patients flooding in from the battlegrounds.

"Nothing of note, Neville. You know the way it's been," the doctor said absently, continuing on his work, "Are you sure you don't want me to examine you? Some of those look like they hurt." The doctor gestured to the sluggishly healing bruises and cuts that lined Neville's face. He shook his head, shrugging casually. 

"I took a potion this morning, I'm fine," he insisted, turning into his parent's room. The doctor shrugged, defeated. 

"Good luck, Neville," the doctor stated, smiling respectfully. Neville nodded, smiling politely at the man before finally entering. 

The sight was one that Neville was far too familiar with. His father sat in a rocking chair near the door, eyes vacantly staring at a spot on the wall. The man's hands tapped at the armrest idly, not following any sort of rhythm. His mother was standing where she always was, next to the window on the other side of the room, sunlight illuminating her blank face.

Neville tried not to feel disappointed, tried to silence the child within him that still hoped his mom and dad would wake up, but dejection still ate at him, even all these years later. Resignedly, he took a seat where he always did, in a chair in the center of the room facing the window. For a moment, he simply relaxed in his parent's company, but eventually, words started to fall out of his mouth. 

"I had the strangest few days. That's why I haven't visited in a little while. Sorry.. about that," Neville said, fully realizing he wouldn't get a response, "We finally brought him down. Voldemort. He's dead." Neville could have sworn that his words sparked a twinge of surprise in his father's face. Then again, he'd thought that before, so many times. It must have been wishful thinking, like it always was. He swallowed hard, bracing himself for the next part of the story. 

"And they killed her, too. Bellatrix. She's gone." Neville felt sick, but he couldn't help but laugh triumphantly. A part of him knew that if they could hear him, his parents would be right there with him. Almost as if to confirm his thoughts, his mother turned to him, her gaze slightly sharper than he ever remembered it being. Moving fluidly, almost like a ghost, she sat on a chair across from him, leaning in slightly as if to encourage Neville. Holding back his surprise, he obliged, "Molly Weasley did it. I was, somewhere else. I destroyed one of the Horcruxes, made it possible for the Harry to finish the job." The sentence lingered in the air for a moment, the usual silence falling between the family. 

Until, that is, something happened. 

He thought he was seeing things. He thought he was twisting the picture before him into something he'd dreamed about for over a decade. But no matter how many times he pinched himself, rubbed his eyes or did a double take, the image didn't change. 

His mother and father were smiling, leaning in toward him and looking at him with something resembling recognition in their eyes. He couldn't help but tear up. It felt so beautifully normal, not only was he just talking to his parents like any normal boy, but his parents were listening. Merlin, they were listening. He didn't think it could be better, he didn't think the stars could align any more than they were. 

And then, he felt a hand cover his own. It was his mother's, setting gently on his knuckles and cupping it protectively. Neville almost started sobbing, quickly turning his hand to grip his mothers. She still was looking him in the eye, beaming proudly. 

"Proud," his mother whispered warmly. Neville's heart stopped, tears pouring down his face. This wasn't real, it wasn't possible. He was dreaming, he had to be. Maybe he did die in that battle, maybe this was some sort of afterlife. He was distantly aware of the fact that he should call the nurse, but he was frozen in elated disbelief. He turned to his father, who was also smiling, and took his hand. 

"Thank you mum," he whispered tearfully, gripping her hand. He wasn't sure what all of this meant, if recovery was actually on the horizon for his parents, but he knew one thing for sure. 

He had hope. Tangible, real hope for something resembling a better future. 

And considering how many people had just lost their chance at one, for the first time in his life, Neville knew.

He was finally one of the lucky ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? The feedback has been awesome, keep it coming! Requests are still totally open, so who do you want to see covered next?


	6. Lyall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyall reflects on the cycle of life as he meets his grandson for the first time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> READ PLEASE: I am aware that several of you reading this probably do not know who this title is referring to. I encourage you to read it regardless, as I only recently found out about his story, and think it's fascinating. I hope you do to!

Lyall Lupin spent that evening trying desperately not to think about what was happening beyond his home. He'd hear the occasional crash, or zap of a violently cast spell from somewhere beyond his windows, but within his home, he was safe from the horrors playing out outside. 

He only wished that Remus was here with him. Then he'd be certain that his son was safe, protected from harm for the first time in his life. Maybe then he wouldn't be ruminating on all the times he failed his boy in the past. Maybe then he could consider something he did as a father to that boy a success. 

He fondly recalled the last owl he'd gotten from Remus, how the tone was almost uncharacteristically jovial. He spoke fondly of deepened love, enriched purpose, and most surprisingly of all, a new baby. Lyall could hardly believe it. He'd resigned himself to never becoming a grandfather when his son was four years old, so to say a sudden pregnancy announcement was a pleasant surprise was a gross understatement. 

Merlin, his wife would've been thrilled. 

He prayed he'd meet the child safe and sound, that the child would have a chance at a future without the darkness surrounding both sides of their family. The baby would come from two of the most star-crossed family lines in all the wizarding world. Lyall could only hope that his grandchild could find a way to persevere in despite of it. 

The whole letter washed over Lyall like a wave of memories and emotions, but what really stood out about the letter was Remus' closing. 'Things are finally looking up, Dad. I miss Sirius something awful, but I've got other things to live for. People to fight for, and people who will fight for me. Even if things do go south with the war, I'm okay with it. I'm happy, and I hope you are, too. Kindest Regards, RL.'

In truth, the letter broke the old man's heart in a lot of ways. Of course he had to be happy, excited for the future now, when everything seemed so horribly dark, and the odds were stacked against those who faught for the light. He wasn't sure what the universe had against his poor boy, but considering how often he was cheated out of a happy ending, it was impossible not to suspect that something was working against him. 

And yet, despite it all, his son was a happy man. Even in one of the darkest times in wizarding history, his son had found a reason to smile. That was a skill Remus had honed throughout his life, which always managed to baffle his father. When Lyall and Hope Lupin were looking down, ruminating in the fear that engulfed them, their son was always looking up. Even when he was ostracized from the other children in school, even when he transformed into a beast without a mind every month, even when he lost all of the friends he'd ever had, and his mother, all in the matter of a week. Remus Lupin still looked up. 

Lyall hoped his son was able to do the same now, even as he was fighting for the freedom of the world they both called home. He wondered about the baby, if the child was healthy, safe, and if he was with someone Remus and his wife trusted. He would've gladly taken the baby in, but he understood why Remus could be hesitant. 

After all, the last time he'd been trusted with the safety of a young child, they'd had their life forever changed by a monster much more real than the ones residing in a closet. 

Just then, a glittering white wisp bounded in through a window and toward the man. Slowly but surely, it shifted into the form of a hummingbird patronus, beginning to speak in a voice he didn't recognize right away. 

"Lyall Lupin, it's Andromeda Tonks. I truly hate to inform you this way but... Your son and my daughter have given their lives in the fighting at Hogwarts," The patronus stopped speaking for a moment, allowing the news to settle in Lyall. He felt almost ill, leaning back against a nearby wall. The voice continued, sounding more serious than before, "I've been informed there's a ceasefire at the moment, if you wanted to travel here, it'd be safe... Before you ask, the baby's with me, if you'd like to meet him. I'll expect to see you soon." The white hummingbird disappeared as fast as it appeared, leaving Lyall alone. 

In that moment, Lyall wasn't sure how to feel. He certainly wasn't surprised, considering how much both wars had taken from the people involved. That wasn't even considering the shortened lifespan so often associated with his son's affliction alone, whether it be from a painful transformation or an overzealous hunter. A part of Lyall was even relieved; he'd rather his son pass happy, and with a purpose, than alone and scared on a night of a full moon. He needed to think that way, he supposed, for the health of himself and his family. He sucked in a deep breath, and apparated to the Tonks home. 

The first sound that hit him when he arrived was a baby crying. It pierced straight to his heart, causing him to look for the source before even announcing his arrival. When he turned into the door of a study, he saw what he was looking for. A grey-haired woman with a child in her arms, fussing wildly. 

"Come now Teddy, relax, what is it you want, I.." Andromeda noticed Lyall, smiling at him warmly. 

"I do hope I'm not intruding," Lyall half-joked, shutting the door behind him. The woman smiled, standing quickly and rocking the baby. 

"Bloody hell, far from it! You might be a big help," she handed Lyall the baby, cleaning herself off. The baby thrashed for another moment, before starting to quiet almost as soon as Lyall started to rock it. The woman sneered playfully. "I try for hours, nothing, and yet you come in and this happens? Doesn't seem fair." Lyall smiled at the baby, only glancing up at her. 

"Always had a way with 'em. Do you know how it's looking over at the castle?" Andromeda sighed, shaking her head. 

"No news. Hoping that's good news." Lyall hung his head. "I'm sorry. For everything you and your boy went through. I'm sure I don't know it all, but Dora told me a good bit. I can't imagine, Lyall." He sighed.

"I appreciate it. I really do. So much of it's my own bloody fault, I don't know if I've earned anyone's sympathy." Andromeda leaned back, somber understanding crossing her face. 

"He spoke highly of you, you know. Remus never did have a bad thing to say about his folks. I'm glad we're finally able to talk properly, even if it is under these circumstances." Lyall nodded cordially. 

"Well," he said, looking fondly at the baby in his arms, "Becoming a grandparent isn't the worst of circumstances, is it?" Andromeda smiled fondly. 

"Not in the slightest." She paused, eyes tearing up. "You know I'm thankful you're willing to be here. This isn't something I want to do alone." Lyall's eyes dampened, a sad smile stretching across his face. 

"I'm just trying to do right by my son."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? If you liked this and this was your first exposure to Lyall, there's more out there about him if you're interested! 
> 
> Requests are still open, feel free to drop one in the comments!


	7. Xenophilius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mister Lovegood reunites with his daughter, and attempts to come to terms with what he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, another horribly underrated character. This one's mostly sweet, but as usual, here be angst. Enjoy!
> 
> ALSO: Everything in this chapter aligns with canon (this is just a missing scene.) Just FYI.

Xeno was released from prison on a cold, dreary morning. It was no different from the temperature inside those awful walls where he'd spent the last few days alone and thinking, praying that he would be forgiven. He knew what he did could've cost them the war, cost the Potter boy his life, maybe even the lives of his friends. He sold them out to he-who-must-not-be-named. He could've been the man that killed Harry Potter, not by his wand, but by his cowardice. 

Yes, what he did could've cost them the war. But not doing anything could've cost him Luna. That wasn't something he could fathom, not after losing Pandora. He can forgive himself for a selfish act, for a decision made in fear, but only because Luna was safe. That was what mattered, and now that it was over, he supposed he could take solace in that fact. He was quickly reminded of that when he was escorted past the prison gates, and saw a too-thin, to shaken blonde waiting for him. It was as if all of the darkness in his life had been banished, replaced with the light of a beautiful moon.

"Daddy!" She said excitedly, wrapping her arms around the man's frame. He pulled her in without hesitation, muttering a thank you to the stars and planets for letting this moment come to pass. In his relief and elation, he hardly noticed Luna's shoulders tremble slightly, and her head tuck even more firmly into her father's chest. 

"Luna, my dear," he said breathlessly, placing a hand gently in her hair. To his horror, he quickly felt his hand grow sticky, as it navigated the new bumps adorning the back of her head. He winced deeply, pulling her closer. "Are you alright?" 

"I will be. Finding you is really helping." Xeno smiled softly, gently moving his hand to Luna's back and leading her away from that cursed building. 

"We've got a lot of catching up to do, dear." Luna looked down, nodding sheepishly. The pair apparated home without further discussion, landing in front of the damaged, but still intact Lovegood home. Silently, they entered, Luna never removing her hand from her father's. They sat on the front stoop, Luna leaning against Xenophilius' shoulder. 

"I think the thestrals will be very happy now, with this all over," Luna postulated, smiling at the distant horizon. Xenophilius hummed a curious response. She turned, smiling up at her father. "I always thought they looked lonely back when it was just me that could see them. Now, they'll have loads of people to take care of them." Xeno couldn't decide whether to laugh or break down crying. 

"I'm sure they will, my little rabbit, I'm sure they will." He turned her head into his shoulder once again, gingerly stroking her hair. "Did they hurt you, dear?" Luna sighed, turning into him further. 

"Yes," Luna whispered, her tone haunted, fragile, dark like her father had never heard before. He was expecting her to continue, to tell him anything about what she went through, but she simply stared at some far off place, eyes full of sad mystique. He looked for guidance in the wind that blew through his hair, and the creatures that stirred all around him. He needed to say something. 

He couldn't just sit here and let the brightest thing in his life sit in this darkness. 

It came to him all at once, as he felt her shift next to him. In an instant, he felt like a horrible man. How could he forget? He gently rose, leaving a dazed Luna on the stoop, looking up at him. "I'll be back, dear, I just need to grab something." Luna nodded, turning back to that same spot off in the distance. 

"Okay then," she said, her tone soft and glimmering, just like it had been before. Xeno smiled darkly, ducking into the house and searching frantically. It was special, it was important, and he'd be damned if anyone touched it. After a moment, he finally found it, a small, neatly wrapped box with shimmering blue and silver constellations adorning the sides. He regarded it fondly, thankful that there wasn't so much as a tear in the paper. 

He walked it back out to her quickly, a smile somehow managing to settle on his face. "Luna, I have a surprise for you," he said, attempting to inject as much happiness he could into his tone. She stood and turned, smiling weakly. 

"What's this?" She asked, grabbing the box as if it was a small animal. She unwrapped it delicately, pulling off the lid to see two earrings sitting neatly in the box. From the hooks hung shells carved into the wings of a swan. She smiled, holding them up to her ears. "Are these for me?" Xeno nodded, setting down the box. 

"Made them myself. I supposed that you could use a reminder of happy memories, so I chose a swan." Luna nodded, her smile widening. It did bring back happy memories, now that he mentioned it, of her mother dancing around with a glimmering bird that Luna never quite knew what to make of. She hugged her father once again. 

"Can we go inside, Daddy?" She asked, a twinge of darkness still in her tone as she slipped the new earrings in. 

"Certainly, dear," He said, opening the door for her, "Happy birthday." She smiled, making her way in the house. 

Xeno lingered at the door for a moment longer, drinking in the presence of his family. For days, he thought he had lost her, the only thing left in his life. He thought he endangered the lives of some of the most important people in the wizarding world for nothing. But Luna was here, home, safe now, and he could breathe again. 

Like his daughter always said, nothing is every truly lost. They come back, sometimes when you least expect it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay book references! Hope you guys liked that! Requests are still totally open, and comments and kudos make me insanely happy. Thanks!


	8. Seamus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seamus and Dean have a quiet moment together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's about time I write some Deamus! Enjoy this little bit of fluffy angst.

When Seamus first saw him standing in the remains of the halls, he thought he was dreaming. Nothing had gone right for him in those days, from the pain and torment of the Carrows to the persistent, awful fear of what was happening outside of the castle, what was happening to Dean. It didn't feel real, it didn't feel like he was really here. But yet, he was walking toward him, battered and bruised and limping but smiling. Alive. Real. 

Seamus nearly collapsed in exhausted relief, wiping his eyes and staring at the sky. He didn't even notice Dean picking up his pace until they collided, the taller boy's arms wrapping firmly around Seamus' shoulders. In that moment, something released inside of the boys. The tension, the fear, the pain slowly dissolving into the embrace. Dean gently pushed Seamus' head into his neck, holding a hand firmly on the back of his head. Seamus didn't protest, wouldn't dream of it. He thought back to those nights in Gryffindor tower, when he'd curled into Dean's quidditch jumper (it felt like him, it smelled like him, and if Seamus thought hard enough, he could convince himself that he was there) in a futile attempt to sleep. He dreamed of this, this embrace that he'd only felt in a few private, stolen moments, to make his pain melt away. And now, the war was over, and he was here. 

"Shay," Dean said breathlessly, pulling Seamus away and cupping his cheek, "I... Blimey I.." Seamus tilted his forehead against Dean's, an ineffable smile crossing his face. "I'm so happy you're okay. I don't know what I'd..." Dean trailed off, tears filling his voice as he gripped Seamus tighter. 

"Dee, Hey. You don't 'ave to. We won." Dean beamed as Seamus spoke, drinking in every moment. It still felt like a dream, a perfect ending to a terrible story that neither of them were fully convinced were real. 

"Can I..." Dean said reflectively, regarding Seamus' newly scarred face carefully. Seamus leaned in, nodding and smiling sadly. And then, they kissed, Dean's lips gently pressing against the shorter boy's, his hands cupping his cheeks. Neither boy moved for a moment, reveling in the peace of each other's presence. "I missed you. So bloody much." 

"I missed you too. Thought about you every night. Only thing that kept me going, with the Carrows n all." 

"Did they do this to you, Shay?" Dean traced the scars on his cheeks gently, eyes filling with melancholy anger. Seamus hung his head shamefully. That told Dean more than any words could. "Oh Merlin, Shay, I..." 

"Where did yours come from then?" Seamus asked defensively, turning his head to face the bloodied lines on Dean's exposed forearm. Dean winced, shaking his head. 

"Malfoy manor," he murmured, "They kept me... They kept me in the dungeons. With Luna and Ron and Hermione, and... They.." Dean drew a shaky breath, staring at the floor. Seamus felt his heart clench, reaching for Dean's hand. He took it gently, squeezing it in encouragement. "I tried to fight back. I did, but they just kept pressing harder, it kept getting harder. I didn't... There were days.. when I wasn't sure I'd get out of there," Dean's voice was barely above a whisper, but Seamus caught every detail. Slowly, he moved a hand to Dean's back and let him sink further into the embrace, Merlin knows he missed it. 

"You did, though. You're here now, we did it," Seamus rambled, not entirely sure if he was talking to Dean or himself. It seemed to work to some degree, Dean's tears slowing as they stood, together, relieved, safe. Dean ran his fingers through Seamus' hair, in part to try and soothe the other boy, in part to remind himself that he didn't have to dream anymore. He didn't have to hold out hope, hold on to fleeting memories in an attempt to stay motivated enough to hold out another day. This was really happening, they were here, together. 

For the moment, that was enough. 

They could worry about the rest later. They could worry about the friends they'd lost later. They could worry about their uprooted since of normalcy later. They could worry about all the new questions later, for now, their biggest question of the last few weeks had been answered. They'd lost a lot, but not each other. 

Later that day, the couple settled into a room in the somehow intact Hogsmeade village. They didn't talk much, simply sitting in comforting silence. They'd sit next to each other, brushing calm and casual fingers over one another's hands or leaning gently into one another's neck for just a moment, like the touch was the only thing keeping them alive. Both boys sent a patronus to their families, letting them know they were safe, had made it out of the battle okay, and would be back the next day. They owed at least that to them, they felt, what with all they'd been put through. That was tomorrow's problem, though, and tonight? Well, tonight was theirs. 

They curled up together, Seamus clinging to Dean, wrapping his body around him. This was so much better than the jumper. Dean laid back contentedly, occasionally reaching down to massage the back of the other boy's neck. Neither slept all that much, adrenaline and disbelief and pain keeping them awake, but they rested none the less. 

Dean looked over Seamus' arms, noticing the thin white scars crisscrossing them and travelling up his body and past where his shirt covered. Dean shuddered a bit as he compared them to his own. The Cruciatus curse, no doubt. He could almost hear his screams, blimey, why did he have to go through it too? Dean was well prepared for Seamus to hurt himself, even hurt himself badly. Being with someone as accident prone as Seamus Finnegan did that to you. But this? This level of pain and suffering, for both of them? Dean hadn't even seen it in his nightmares. 

"Dee?" A soft, tired voice broke through his thoughts, "Ev'rythin okay?" Dean smiled, resuming his massage. 

"Just admiring my view," Dean said smugly, kissing the top of Seamus' head. The other boy blushed, staring up at Dean. 

"I love you," Seamus said drowsily, burying his head back into Dean's chest. Dean smiled, kissing his hair. 

"I love you too." The two boys laid in peace for the rest of the night, for the first time in far too long, clinging to each other instead of some distant hope. They both eventually drifted off, neither of their grips loosening. 

It wasn't until the next morning that the two realized just what they'd said the night before. 

It wasn't until the next morning that the two realized that was their first time saying those words. 

And by some miracle, it wouldn't be their last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What'd you think? Requests are still open, so please let me know who you'd like to see next! Comments and kudos make my day! Thanks!


End file.
